Cold As Ice
by legheads-lament
Summary: A little bit of chilly fun. Essentially plotless smutty drabble, told from Jefferson's RP voice which is a bit more loose than my normal fics. His Queen requested some foreplay so here you have it


Apple pancakes and a freshly bloomed rose had done their part. Smoothing over what he had muddled the night before. He wanted her to initiate intimacy, and when she had he'd only baited her for more. Teased her as he had when they were young and gotten much of the same reaction. But it wasn't the one he was hoping for. And so as day gave way to night, her feisty behavior and too much (too little) talk of innuendo had Jefferson quickly but carefully pulling together a little plan for the evening.

As of late they had been enjoying the more mutual, repetitive pleasures, it had been all too long since he'd had the pleasure of simply enjoying her. A touch and taste here and there were not enough to quell the hunger he held within him. And tonight that hunger had been aggravated to near starvation — how much longer could he be expected not to sate it?

Admittedly much of his pleasure was derived from pleasuring her. Chock it up to old habits but truthfully, old habits, old career choices, they were of little influence on the here and now. Perhaps it was because she was stubborn, difficult to bring a reaction out of that made him want to bring it even more. That was easily one reason why he put so much effort into making her come undone. Another could just as easily have been that he simply liked the look of her when she couldn't help but let go, give in. She was beautiful. She always was. But something about those moments had him seeking them out again and again.

But this was about more than just a low burning need to see her give in to his every touch. She'd challenged him. Challenged how far his creativity in the carnal could go. And so within a side glance after dinner the decision was made. He escorted her to a guest bedroom, one they had yet to christen, ice bucket in hand. Lips melded against hers as he guided her backwards until her legs ran into the edge of the bed. And though normally he would prefer she be the one to rid him of his wears, for now he needed her attention, needed her focused to fall in to his plan.

He set the bucket down on the bedside table and undid the top few buttons of his shirt — just enough to pull it over his head and make the work that much quicker. And with it discarded he spun her, back brushing his chest, all sorts of parts brushing. He was quick to find the zipper of her dress, quick to pull it down and quick to push the garment down her arms and off her entirely, an expensive little pile on the floor. But quick hands were aided by slow lips, ghosting kisses along her neck, moving from one shoulder to the other. And his words were hummed down into her every vertebrae.

"I think — I would like some dessert," he said between kisses, caressing hands keeping her close. "Something on ice perhaps." The hands at her waist came up, pulling the straps of her bra off her arms. It would be a shame not to be able to rid her of it when the time came, and so a little prep work was in order.

He reached in to the drawer in the side table, and pulled out a scarf. A silken thing, not fit to be worn for how small it was, but it was just right for the job. Given the last time they'd played this game, and how well his asking her had gone, Jefferson bypassed any ask for permission and brought the scarf to her eyes, tying it around her just so. And with the desire to not hear how his choice was decidedly old hat, he scooped her up before she could say so, enjoying the soft gasp that escaped her despite the waiting smile on her lips.

He laid her down near the center of the smaller bed, straddling her hips as he reached into the drawer once again. Two more scarves emerged, one each destined for a wrist. He looped a knot around an open spot on the headboard, and brought one wrist up to be securely kept in place.

"Afraid I'll be going somewhere?"

He laughed at her words, and finished tying the second wrist to its respective spot, keeping her arms just enough apart to allow her a bit of wiggle room, but not much.

"I don't think you'll be going anywhere my dear, the scarves are merely to keep you from interfering."

She hummed at his confidence, and her smirking lips were nothing easy to stay away from. But he'd spoken of frozen dessert, and there was nothing cold happening yet. Her skin was hot under his touch, whether in anticipation or as a simple reflection of what was true — either could be the case, but he'd much rather be put to task at warming her up himself.

He moved to rest just beside her, but kept his upper body hovering above hers. Without much further thought he reached in to the bucket of ice, selecting the first piece blindly, as he cared not to look away from her as he did so. He could see how her breathing was just becoming labored, waiting for what he was going to do, impatient as ever at the prospect.

But he had no reason to leave her waiting long, it was a time sensitive tease he'd chosen to bestow on her. He began where all good teases begin — gliding the ice along her lower lip. It was already swollen from his vigorous attention and yet after a moment he couldn't resist pushing forward for a chilled kiss. His tongue traced along the cool skin, brushing hers and savoring how the action slowly warmed her once again. As he kissed her he dragged the ice down the side of her neck, feeling her stiffen and squirm ever so slightly as it began to melt from her body heat, causing a cold drizzle of water to slide down her chest. All in due time.

For the moment he was most concerned with the higher-most parts of her, as he drew a frigid little design along her neck with the slowly rounding edge of the ice cube. He abandoned her lips, and trailed down to the opposite side of her neck — the ice was causing her skin to pinken, and he did the same to other side —with nips and sucking kisses, and late night stubble brushing her skin. He knew though, if he got too caught up he wouldn't be able to enjoy the scene before him to the fullest. And so with one final mark left upon her he pulled back, shifting to rest on an elbow so he could watch the trails of goosebumps emerging all over the path the ice took.

He ran it along her collarbone, and followed the line to the center of her chest. Satisfied with the first cube's job Jefferson dropped it back in the small bucket, before cold fingers found their way under her to unhook her bra. She arched up when he brushed against her, and with his other hand he held her there for a moment, with the clasp unfastened he trailed his fingers softly down the arc of her spine, and watched as she bit her lip to stifle a small shudder. With every action the garment slowly moved, just beginning to expose her breasts to the air, to him. He set her back down and removed it entirely, the very reason he'd seen to the straps before securing her in place.

Lips kissed a warm line down between her breasts, an intentional contrast to what would follow suit. And he allowed them to linger just a bit longer, ghosting over pebbled skin, a bit longer still as she was just beginning to writhe under him. He reached for the ice in the same moment he let his tongue join his taunting lips, swirling around her as the cold returned to the spot it last touched.

She held in as many vocalizations as ever, they came out in mere choked whispers to spite his desire for something more. He nipped at her breast and she arched up into him once again, and was greeted by the ice glancing over the spot his lips had just left. Finally a gasp escaped her parted lips, and in response he soothed the cold with a warm mouth once again. He moved the ice to the other breast, circling its shape, slowly moving in closer with every once-around until it met with the peak at the center, hardening her flesh — something she was not at all alone in.

He dropped the second cube back in the bucket, and took to warming her with lips and tongue once again. By then she was arching up into every subsequent movement, pulling against that which kept her restrained and yet making no move to break past them with magic. He snickered into her skin and continued his descent, kisses down her ribs until he came her to navel. Another piece of ice and he was back to drawing circles, tracing along the outline and then spreading out, watching as her stomach muscles tensed and released at every cold sensation. She began to squirm again when he brought the ice to trace a line from hip to hip, less than inch above her only remaining lingerie. He pulled the waistband up just enough to allow the ice to sneak just inside, melting down against her more sensitive skin.

He cast the cube aside and heard an almost miserable whimper leave her, and he couldn't resist reaching up to move the makeshift blindfold up off her eyes. He wanted eye contact, as much as she was willing to give it, for his eyes were full of hunger, more than ready to devour all of her, but after this one last piece.

A final piece of ice in hand, he placed it back on the center of her chest, but this time instead of fingers he laid his palm flat against it, leaving the broadside to touch and melt against her as he slid his hand heavily down her front. She whimpered and writhed under the coldness, mouth dropped open and back arching as he slid the cold cube down until it touched her thighs, chilling the skin as still-hot fingers began to brush her through lace. The cataclysm of stimulation heralded his name from her quivering lips. And the last melted fragments of ice were lost somewhere to bed sheets, as he hooked his fingers into her undergarments, ready to make the most of her tied state and chilled, parted thighs.


End file.
